Or let life teach him the lesson I never had.
I remembered his voice:
“See you. Or maybe not.”
I remembered Vanessa’s words about my home.
I remembered signing those papers while burning with fever.
I drank my coffee in one swallow.
And I chose not to save him.
The next evening, I dressed carefully—navy silk dress, pearls, red lipstick Robert used to say made me look unstoppable.
Then I called my lawyer.
“Meet me at the Pacific View Club at eight,” I said. “Bring the police. I’m filing charges—fraud, forgery, abuse of trust.”
He hesitated. “Margaret… that’s your son.”
“He stopped acting like one first.”
The wedding was extravagant.
White flowers everywhere. A string quartet. Champagne. A towering cake.
All paid for—or promised—with money Ethan thought he had taken from me.
When he saw me, his face drained of color.
Vanessa looked stunning in a dress worth more than some people’s yearly salary.
Ethan approached me, furious.
“What are you doing here? I told you not to come.”
“I brought your wedding gift,” I said.
He scoffed. “Gift? You have nothing left.”
I looked at him, sadness burning quietly inside me.